Moon turned and found himself temporarily in the lead as the warriors followed him back down the corridor. He took the other turn, a hall that ran parallel to the cliff face. It was narrow enough that the kethel couldn’t follow them without shifting to groundling, but it wasn’t likely to take them to an opening to the outside. Celadon leapt over the heads of the warriors and landed next to him to take the lead again. She glanced at him, but didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything to say.
The hall turned again, toward the cliff face, but it ended in what at first looked like an empty room. Then Moon saw the heavy chains hanging down the walls and his heart leapt. “Cargo lift!”
He looked up to see a square of daylight a few hundred paces up the shaft. Celadon said, “Hurry, climb!”
They started up the chains, Moon, Celadon, and a warrior on one side, the other three warriors and Delin on the other. Delin held on to Rime unsupported, so Rime could use both hands to climb. Delin’s face was set in a grimace of determination, and Moon was terrified he would fall. Even if it was a quick end compared to what the Fell would do to him.
Celadon whispered, “The dakti haven’t found us yet. They should be right behind us. They were trying to drive us into that kethel and they would have, if it hadn’t shifted too soon.”
She was right. “Maybe they got turned around in a corridor,” Moon said, but he knew it was unlikely. “Or they’re waiting for something, another kethel to trap us—”
The wall chains shook and something heavy groaned ominously. Above them the blocky shape of a cargo platform jolted into motion, blotting out the square of daylight as it creaked down the shaft. Celadon looked down and hissed. “That’s what they were waiting for!”
Moon looked and saw a black cloud of leathery wings, tails, claws, and teeth; the dakti swarmed up the shaft toward them like a dark wave.
There was no time to discuss it, no time to plan. Celadon swung over to one of the shaking wall chains that helped balance the moving platform. She ripped it out of the ring that held it to the wall and flung herself backward across the shaft. As the startled warrior flattened himself to the wall, Moon swung around and ripped out another supporting ring. The platform above jerked and flipped sideways amid a chorus of metallic snaps and ringing as the chains on the other wall took the full weight and broke.
Moon caught a passing slap from a chain that slammed him face-first into the wall. Dazed, he felt his claws lose their grip, but the warrior grabbed his arm and pulled him in as the wooden platform plunged past them.
The square window was right above them now, and the warrior dragged Moon up onto the sill. Moon crouched, blinked hard to clear his bleary vision, and looked down the shaft in time to see several dakti scrambling up the wall toward them. He slashed the first one across the face and throat; it tumbled backward but more followed. The warrior shouted at him to jump. Moon turned, and he and the warrior leapt out the window into a strong gust of wind.
Moon caught a glimpse of the flying boat, but for a few heartbeats he was too occupied with fighting to stay aloft to realize what he was looking at. Then details came into focus and he went cold with horror.
A major kethel clung to the carved cliff face above the flying boat’s anchorage, its claws hooked into the balconies and around the elegant pillars of the city’s façade. The giant creature’s form was similar to the dakti, armored-plated in the same way, but it had an array of horns crowning its huge head. It couldn’t be the one they had glimpsed inside the city; it was the biggest kethel Moon had ever had the misfortune to see, more than three times Stone’s size. It loomed over the flying boat, which was still wrapped in the folds of netting. He couldn’t see any movement on the deck.
“The others didn’t follow us!” the warrior called out above him. “Consort, you go on, I’ll wait—” The words dissolved in a sharp cry and the warrior folded and dropped like a rock. Something had struck him; the scent of blood came to Moon as he twisted sideways and grabbed the falling man’s outstretched arm.
The warrior’s dead weight jerked Moon down and he flapped hard to stay aloft, but the wind tossed him toward the cliff. He looked down, saw the warrior had shifted to groundling from shock and pain; blood stained his shirt on the right side of his chest. Projectile weapon, Moon thought with a snarl. He looked around and spotted a bladder-boat suspended in the air some distance away and headed rapidly toward them.
Moon pulled the warrior up into his arms, let the wind shove him sideways, and angled for a steep dive away from the city.
He heard the faint pop from the direction of the bladder-boat, twisted, and dropped to avoid another projectile. But a soft weight struck him and knocked him toward the cliff face.
Moon slammed into the rock, stunned, and felt his wings twist with the weight of whatever had hit him. Keeping hold of the warrior with one arm, he grabbed for purchase on the rock with the other. He caught a hold in the stone with his foot-claws and realized the thing that had hit them was a net made of heavy cord, a smaller version of the one that had trapped the flying boat. He ripped at it with his free hand but his claws slid off the metallic strands, and the entangling folds dragged painfully at his wings. He wrapped his free arm around an ornamental post projecting from a ledge and shifted to groundling just as he felt the bones in his wings bend.
He gasped as the pressure on his wings disappeared and his groundling body formed. He waited for the rush of pain from broken bones but it didn’t come. The net’s weight, his heavier body, and the warrior combined to strain his arm and shoulder, until it felt as if the joint was about to rip apart. But that was all. Just in time, he thought in relief. Broken wing bones would have translated to broken bones in his back, and the terror of that ran through his veins like icy water.
The bladder-boat had been too far away for a groundling to throw the net, so it must have somehow shot it at them like a projectile. That explains where the net that hit the boat came from, he thought.
The warrior regained consciousness enough to wrap his good arm around Moon’s neck. The scent of his blood was thick in Moon’s throat. He whispered, “Consort, what…”
“Just hold on.” Moon twisted as far as he could, ignoring the grinding pain in his shoulder. Ropes stretched up from the net towards the bladder-boat, still above them and coming down at an angle, now no more than a hundred paces away. They needed to get untangled from this net so Moon could shift and get them out of here. “What’s your name?”
“Dare,” the warrior gasped.
“Dare, can you kick the net away from—” Groundlings appeared at the bladder-boat’s railing and one lifted a bulky weapon with a long tube. And we need to get away now, Moon thought. He told Dare, “Don’t let go.”
The warrior tightened his grip. Moon lifted his legs despite the tangling net, braced his feet on the wall, and shoved off.
They fell until the ropes attached to the net caught and jerked them to a halt. Moon tore and dragged at the clinging folds and Dare kicked out. Moon felt the net loosen as it started to untangle, about to spill them out.
Then something dark closed around them.
Moon saw the huge claws arching over him and realized the major kethel had snatched them up in its hand. Dare strangled back a scream but in the next instant the creature dropped them.
They slammed into a wooden surface. Dare landed hard on Moon’s chest and knocked the air out of him. Moon got a breath into his aching lungs and quelled the panicked impulse to shift. The net was wrapped around his arm and neck, half-strangling him; it would be worse tangled on his spines and folded wings.